by Jenny Colgan
‘If you could do an early-morning shift,’ said Polly. ‘But it really isn’t much, I’m so sorry.’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Jayden. ‘Anything is better than working for that demon.’
Kerensa smiled at Polly.
‘When’s Huckle coming back?’
Polly’s slightly more buoyant mood deflated instantly.
‘Oh lord,’ she said. ‘Don’t ask.’
‘Ah,’ said Kerensa.
‘I can’t wait,’ said Polly. ‘I need him back! Soon! Now, in fact. I’m growing old up there on my own.’
‘Well I’ll be there at five,’ said Jayden stoically. ‘I’m going to go see if anyone else needs night work doing.’
‘Thanks, Jayden,’ said Polly. ‘You know, it’s going to be all right, I promise.’
They waited till he’d walked slowly off up the hill.
‘Is it going to be all right?’ said Kerensa in a low voice. ‘Of all the couples I never thought I needed to worry about, you two are top of the list.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Polly, hugging her knees. ‘I really don’t know.’
She remembered last year, when Huckle had just assumed she’d want to stay in Savannah with him, live the easy, sunny life of an American girl, let him look after everything. And it was appealing, no doubt about it, the thought of not having to worry about money, or deal with absolute rotters like Malcolm… Even as she was thinking this, she suddenly heard the sound of a trumpet start up somewhere in the distance, and heaved a sigh.
‘Is it worth it just to stay here?’ said Kerensa, putting into words Polly’s darkest fears. ‘If Huckle doesn’t want to come back?’
‘It has to be,’ said Polly stoically.
‘And it is lovely there,’ said Kerensa.
Polly looked around.
‘But look at this!’ she said. ‘Look at all of this! How is this not lovely?’
‘Because it’s freezing and we don’t have any money?’
‘No!’ said Polly. ‘Because it’s mine. It’s something I did and I built and it has its ups and downs, but it’s all my own work, do you see?’
‘But in America… that’s his too,’ said Kerensa, gently.
Polly swallowed.
‘But when I met him, he was just a honey seller. He was a local guy working in local food, local sourcing, creativity, just like me. Just like what I wanted to do.’
‘Yes, but back then, he was getting over an unhappy love affair, burying himself away. It wasn’t… it wasn’t necessarily who he truly was.’
There was a long silence after that.
‘Oh, K, do you really think so?’ said Polly.
‘I don’t know,’ said Kerensa. ‘But he’s not here. And I think it’s time you found out.’
Polly stared out to sea.
‘But I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave here.’
‘Why not?’ said Kerensa, softly. ‘There are lots of places you could be happy in, but at the moment Mount Polbearne is not one. It’s stressing you out like a mad thing. There are lots of places to be happy, but only one bloke I have ever seen you happy with, Polly Waterford.’
Polly bowed her head.
‘But the van is picking up.’
‘That’s true.’
‘And…’
‘And?’ Kerensa looked at her.
‘And I need to wait for Neil to come back.’
‘POLLY!’
‘I know, I know. But he will, I know it. And if I’m not there…’
‘Neil. Is. A. BIRD.’
‘He’s a very special bird.’
‘He’s off somewhere right now having an amazing time, doing whatever birds do. Okay? He has a little brain and is having the absolute time of his life being free. Like he has to be. You have to understand that.’
Polly nodded.
‘And if you let Neil get in the way of you and Huckle having a proper grown-up relationship, where from time to time you compromise on each other’s careers and let each other come and go and do whatever you need to do and support one another unconditionally – and by the way, Huckle has always supported you, even when you’re moaning about him taking on a major responsibility that must be a massive pain in the arse for him too – then you will be very, very sorry indeed. And I don’t think it’s what Neil would have wanted for you either.’
‘I know,’ said Polly.
She looked up, feeling rather hangdog, only to see Malcolm and Flora walking arm in arm along the seafront. Malcolm was gesturing expansively.
‘Oh yes, my family have been pretty important round here for a long time,’ he was saying in a loud voice. ‘Yes, we pretty much ran this town for hundreds of years. Go back a long way. It’s a great responsibility, of course.’
‘Wow,’ Flora was saying. ‘That’s amazing.’
She looked at her watch.
‘Ooh, I’ve missed the tide again.’
‘Not to worry,’ said Malcolm. ‘I’ve got a flat here too, of course.’
Flora spied Polly.
‘Oh, hello, Miss Waterford! Were you in the paper? My mam says you were in the paper. Not one of the ones we read, but still, in the paper! That’s good. They came and asked if they could take my photo too, but I said not likely.’
‘If they’d taken your photo, you’d have been whisked straight to London,’ said Polly. ‘Still not tempted?’
Flora shook her head.
‘Noooo. Full of disgusting old men trying to touch me up all the time, like always.’
Polly looked pointedly at Malcolm, but he stared impassively out to sea, ignoring her.
Flora stepped closer to Polly as Malcolm walked on.
‘I know what you think,’ she said quietly. ‘But I never meet anyone who’s just interested in me.’
‘Are you sure he’s not just pretending?’ said Polly.
Flora shrugged her shoulders.
‘Nobody else even tries,’ she said. ‘That cute bloke Jayden who worked for you. He doesn’t even say hello.’
‘Ah,’ said Polly.
Flora looked at the ground and scuffed her long, elegant foot across it.
‘I am sorry, you know,’ she said. ‘I did like it more in the bakery when you were doing stuff.’
‘Thanks,’ said Polly.
‘And your bird was amazing,’ she mumbled.
Polly looked up at her, surprised and touched.
‘That means a lot,’ she said. ‘Thank you. And don’t feel you have to —’
‘Flora!’ shouted Malcolm from further up the cobbled hill. ‘Come and show me that thing you do with the whirly machine.’
‘He wants me to bake for him!’ said Flora, pinkening. She set off after him, and Kerensa and Polly watched her go.
‘Cor,’ said Polly. ‘That “treat ’em mean keep ’em keen” thing works in strange ways.’
She stared out over the horizon. A great storm appeared to be blowing up, black clouds pushing hither and thither. She frowned at it.
‘That doesn’t look very nice.’
‘I know,’ said Kerensa glumly.
‘Want to stay over? You’ve missed the tide.’
‘No, I’ll wait for the next one. I wish Reuben still had that damn boat and could just come and pick me up. That is the one thing I miss. And the helicopter.’
‘It’ll take him a while on the micro-scooter.’
‘Don’t diss the micro-scooter,’ said Kerensa. ‘He’s lost about nine pounds on that thing.’
‘What, through shame?’
Kerensa smiled. ‘You should know by now that Reuben doesn’t do shame.’
She linked arms with Polly.
‘Come on, let’s go halves on a small glass of cider.’
Later on, Polly waved Kerensa off across the causeway. The tide was going out, but the waves were still splashing over the top of the cobbles. Kerensa was a good and unfazed driver though, and pushed the little Datsun she’d been reduced to through without incident.
Polly frowned at the
sky and kept her fingers crossed that the power would stay on if there was a big storm. It was the time of year for it: they’d had a couple of very hot days now, but there was still a lot of cold air circling round in the system. The lighthouse itself never went out, of course – it had a back-up generator – but the rooms were on the mains, and sitting in the dark above the sea frankly wasn’t a lot of fun, unless Huckle was there, in which case it was a ton of fun.
The clouds kept gathering, and there was a strong feeling of electricity and static in the air without anything actually happening. It was getting warmer, and the clouds had a purply mustard streak that Polly didn’t like at all. She decided to ring Huckle quickly.
‘Hey,’ she said before he could get a word in. ‘Sorry about yesterday.’
‘Nobody said this was going to be easy,’ said Huckle straight away. ‘That’s okay. You’re allowed to feel like you’re alone. But you know, you’re not.’
‘I know,’ said Polly. ‘Kerensa told me that. And Jayden, too. Then Selina rang, and —’
‘See!’ said Huckle. ‘You are totally surrounded by all your mates at all times. I don’t have a friend in the world out here! Except for…’ His voice trailed off.
‘Except for who?’
‘Well, I see Candice a bit, you know. Only friendly kind of thing.’
Polly felt a sudden clutch of nerves. She’d never met Candice, but she knew that a) she was incredibly fit and blonde and beautiful, from a photograph she’d come across, and b) she had broken Huckle’s heart completely and utterly before Polly had met him, so much so that he’d had to move to another continent to get away from her. He said he was totally over it, but men say a lot of things.
‘Well obviously,’ said Polly, her heart thumping in her chest. There was a pause. ‘Do you see her a lot?’
‘I see her AND HER FIANCÉ RON from time to time, yes.’
‘And what does she think you should do?’
It was then that Huckle made his fatal mistake.
‘Well, you know, she’s a businesswoman…’
Polly went completely silent. There was a very long pause.
‘And what am I?’ she said finally. ‘A hobbyist?’
Huckle felt exasperated and guilty.
‘Polly,’ he said. ‘You have to stop this.’
‘Stop what? Running a shop?’
‘No! Trying to catch me out! Ever since I left, you’ve been trying to find hidden meanings in what I’m saying. Blaming me for stuff we both agreed to do.’
‘I’m not doing that!’
‘That’s exactly what you’re doing.’
‘Well, I’m very tired.’
The exhaustion showed in Huckle’s voice.
‘We’re all tired, Poll. You have to try a little harder.’
‘You’re not the one sat here all alone in —’
‘In a lighthouse, I know. The lighthouse you insisted on buying despite that estate agent and surveyor begging you not to. The lighthouse that needs thousands and thousands spent on it to make it even vaguely habitable. The lighthouse in which we camp. The lighthouse you wouldn’t dream of leaving for five minutes to come and spend time with me. The lighthouse that by the way has more than one room, which is more than I’ve got, because my life is on the farm now, and I live in a single bed in a spare room the size of a box. For you. But please, go on about it some more.’
Polly had never heard Huckle so angry. It took so much to wind him up; she’d kind of taken it for granted that he would always be mellow, and absorb her moods. This was new and a bit shocking.
She swallowed hard.
‘Can you come home?’
‘Not yet,’ said Huckle. ‘Can you come here?’
‘It’s the middle of the summer season.’
‘Well then,’ said Huckle, ‘we’ll just have to carry on.’
And there was a tiny little pause, in which both of them worried, just for a split second, whether or not they could.
Chapter Twenty
Huckle couldn’t help being annoyed with Polly. She was at home with all her mates, her business was going well, everything was totally fine. Why did she have to be so cross with him all the time, really? Then he’d come upon Clemmie in the kitchen, bent over, sobbing her heart out over the stove. He’d run to her, petrified, thinking something was wrong with the baby. But she was scared, that was all. He had cursed and said he was absolutely emailing Dubose, and she had begged him not to, and he had wanted to kick the wall in frustration. Instead, he’d gone back to the accounts: hay, corn, feed stocks. This was a good farm. There was no reason why Dubose couldn’t make a good happy living here, a good happy life. None at all.
Polly tossed and turned half the night, then finally gave up around three and got up and started kneading and twisting fresh dough, as usual the only thing that could calm her down. She wanted to call Huckle, but what would happen? Another fight?
He’d made his position very clear. She prodded, as she kneaded, at her deepest, darkest fear: that he was happier in America than he was at home with her. She couldn’t help feeling this way. She knew he was working hard, but even so. Life had, she fondly imagined, to be easier there.
They didn’t have any of the comforts of the modern world in Polbearne, not really. One motorbike, one tatty old falling-down lighthouse in desperate need of care and attention; no Wi-Fi or theatre or culture or even half-decent television reception; one half of a career that earned pennies and finished at eleven o’clock every morning…
She tried not to let her tears plop into the dough. Even Rob Harrison, the very early-morning DJ, couldn’t perk her up. She loved Huckle, loved him to bits, but she also loved her job, she loved Mount Polbearne, her life was here: everything she’d made herself, everything she’d built up from nothing. And she was accepted here, finally – well, more or less: this was her home.
Her heart churned as she kneaded the dough, her brain going round and round on a track. It was a great relief when Jayden, bless his heart, did indeed arrive at 5 a.m., which meant she had to dry her tears as quickly as she was able. He did a thorough scrub-down of the kitchen, which helped a lot, whilst also mentioning excitedly that he’d popped into the post office on the mainland and said he was available, and had spoken to the postman there who’d had the Mount Polbearne route for twenty years, even though it drove him crazy with the lack of street names and the fact that half the surnames were the same, and the many, many hours he’d spent waiting for the tide to turn so he could get his delivery in, and the heaviness of lugging his bag across on his bicycle, which was not at all designed to be ridden on slippery wet cobbles, and he hated that damn island and if it was up to him, the villagers would all have to make their way across to the mainland like normal bloody people if they wanted their mail, it was an absolute bloody scandal and had given him sciatica. Anyway, that was everything he had to say on the subject. So, the postie was coming up for retirement, and Jayden had come away with an application form, which was making him quite excited. He reckoned he could start at Polly’s at five, do his rounds and be finished with his two jobs for the day by nine.
‘So I’ll be getting double bubble AND have my whole day to myself,’ he said, with some satisfaction. ‘That’ll be the life for me. And I’ll save up. For the best damn car Mount Polbearne’s ever seen.’
‘Mount Polbearne’s only got four cars,’ Polly pointed out. It really wasn’t worth bringing them over from the mainland: there was nowhere to drive to, plus the salt water and sea air ate through the metal in about six months. Plus insurance was utterly insane. So insane, in fact, that Polly was highly suspicious that anybody who had a car was actually insured at all.
‘Well mine will easily be the best car, then, won’t it?’ said Jayden, with unavoidable logic, as they carried the half-baked fresh loaves downstairs to fill Nan the Van to the rafters. By now it was pink and golden outside, the heavy clouds of yesterday dispersed; it was going to be the most beautiful day.
&n
bsp; ‘So can Huckle come back now?’ Jayden said.
‘Oh for God’s sake, can everyone stop asking me that?’
Jayden’s friendly, boyish face crinkled.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘That must make you sad.’
‘Yes, it does,’ Polly said weakly.
‘Can’t you just tell him to come back now you’ve got your super van? And me working for you, and that stunning model girl.’
